


lost and found a thousand times

by A_E_Meadows



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Geralt finally apologises, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Jaskier deserves the world, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Post-Episode 6, Pre-Slash, hand-holding!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_E_Meadows/pseuds/A_E_Meadows
Summary: Some months after the mountain argument, Jaskier is kidnapped by bandits for ransom.Jaskier believes Geralt won't come for him and decides to go out fighting.This results in a lost, injured Jaskier and a frantic, guilt-ridden Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 48
Kudos: 2050





	lost and found a thousand times

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I've only watched the TV series of The Witcher (although I started reading the books and bought the game yesterday!) so sorry if I got anything wrong!  
> I hope you enjoy reading!

Normally Jaskier and bars are a great mix, or so he'd like to think. Today, however, a group of greasy, sour looking men have made themselves an unavoidable presence in the corner of the room. Jaskier can't help but flick his eyes over to the group every verse or so of his song, a strange feeling of dread building in his chest.

Between songs he caught a few words from the group - "-Witcher's bard", "price", and "easy target".  
_Right_ , Jaskier decided, _time to leave_.  
He turned to pack his lute away, when a hand slammed down hard on the case. The resulting **bang** made Jaskier jolt, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the cruel laughter that followed.  
"Where is your Witcher today, bard?" said the man in front of him, dirty hand still resting on his lute case. Jaskier gulped around a sudden lump in his throat.  


"Ah, were you not listening to the song? Most likely saving some poor person in need of help!" Jaskier attempted, the light-hearted tone not quite convincing enough.  
The man's hand curled tighter around the lute case, nails digging in.  
"Shame he's not here then, wouldn't you say…"  
Jaskier's heart dropped, as the men jeered - supporting their leader.  
The bar was rather crowded, laughter and cheering happening all around them. Jaskier desperately tried to make eye contact with anyone in the bar, but nobody was looking their way.

A sharp object appeared at Jaskier's side, pressing into the soft skin of his stomach through his shirt.  
"None of that now," the leader said, putting his arm around Jaskier's shoulders in a faux show of friendliness, obscuring the knife from the other bar patrons view. "Why don't we take a walk."  
Jaskier grabbed his lute case tightly, not even a group of bandits would make him forget that, and walked unsteadily with the men out of the bar.

Once outside, one of the men from the group punched him hard across the face knocking him to the ground. Jaskier lay there stunned for a moment before he was pulled up by the leader.  
"Tell me, boy. What are you to the Witcher?"  
Jaskier blinked the stars away from his vision, and shrugged as best he could while his collar was being held in a tight grip.  
"Not much, apparently," he muttered, thinking of the anger in Geralt's eyes back on the mountain.  
The leader scoffed, shaking Jaskier by the collar.  
"I don't believe that's quite true," he said, tossing Jaskier back to the ground.  
"Rough him up a bit, boys, so he's more ... compliant," the leader said, and with one more look at Jaskier he stepped back to allow the ring of men to close in around him.

/ / /

When Jaskier came to he was no longer outside the bar but deep in the woods. The trees bowed so low that they blocked the light out almost completely, making it hard to tell what time of day it was. It had started to snow, a thin blanket of white covering the ground around him. Jaskier leant forward, only to be stopped by a rope that had been tied around his waist to the tree behind him. His face was stiff with dried blood and he could tell his left eye was blackened by the swelling that made it hard to see.

Just ahead of him was the group of men, gathered around a campfire - drinking and shouting. 

Jaskier didn't know what their plan was, but from what he heard back in the bar they planned to ransom him back to Geralt for coin.  
How humiliating.  
After, the episode on the mountain Jaskier was sure Geralt wouldn't want anything to do with him. Although ... perhaps he didn't quite mean 'take you off my hands' to be death by failed ransom.  
Jaskier shifted quietly, bruises making themselves known all over his body. A small groan of pain escaped his lips, drawing the attention of his oh so pleasant company.

"Ah, awake at last..." the leader said, smiling a smile that looked more like a snarl than anything else.  
Jaskier kept his mouth shut for once, not wanting to say anything that would put him in more danger than he already was.  
"Oh, nothing to say?" the leader frowned. "I heard the Witcher's bard was rather talkative! So much in fact that the Witcher himself got sick of you."  
The men howled with laughter, causing a hot flush of embarrassment to colour his face.  
This, of course, only made the men laugh louder.  
"Why try and ransom me if you know he won't come?"  
"Geralt of Rivia doesn't care for much ... if he comes, we get coin and the satisfaction of having the Witcher at our mercy, if he doesn't come I have the satisfaction of killing you,"

Jaskier paled at that, his chest tightening at the thought of Geralt walking into an ambush if he did have a change of heart. Though these men were stupid if they thought they could take on a Witcher, Jaskier couldn't bear the thought of being the reason for it. Letting out a shaky sigh, Jaskier leant back against the tree he was tied to, a tried to get comfortable.

The sky had begun to darken when a boy rushed into the clearing, startling Jaskier and a few of the other men.  
"The bard's lute and the ransom note have been delivered to Geralt of Rivia," he announced proudly.  
Jaskier gasped, only then noticing his precious lutes absence.  
The leader stepped forward, clapped the boy on the shoulder and handed him a pouch of coin.  
"Good work, kid," the leader said. "Not a word of this to anybody, you hear?"  
The boy nodded enthusiastically, and ran from the clearing.

"Now we wait,"

/ / /

As night fell Jaskier struggled to keep his eyes open, dragging his head up every time it tipped forward with the pull of sleep.  
"Poor bard," one of the minions said, his mocking tone harsh. "His Witcher isn't coming for him."  
One of the others nodded in agreement, "To be fair, last I heard the Witcher was happy to finally be free of the deadweight holding him back,"  
Hot tears burned in Jaskier's eyes but he refused to let them fall.  
"Look at him, he's pathetic. Didn't even fight back in the bar like a real man would," another chimed in.  
Jaskier looked away, shame colouring his face once again.  
It was true, he was pathetic and useless, and he had no idea why Geralt even put up with him in the first place. The men saw the look of resignation on Jaskier's face and they revelled in it, beginning to surround Jaskier with taunts and cruel laughter.  
"Now, now, boys," the bandit leader said. "Let's wait until dawn in case his Witcher does show before we actually kill him,"

Jaskier flinched, the reality of the situation finally starting to set in. He squinted up at the sky as the men began to retreat back to the campfire. It was hard to tell but by the light that was visible it seemed like a few hours until dawn. A few hours until death.  
Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn't come for him. At this realisation his heart clenched, chest aching deep inside - a contrast to the pain of the bruises that littered his body.  
Jaskier had two options, he could sit here, tied to this tree and accept his death, or he could make one final stand and go out fighting.  
That would at least prove that he was not as useless as these men claimed him to be... as he was to Geralt.

Mind made up, Jaskier began to slowly pull his knees up to his chest so he could reach his ankle. The dagger Geralt had given him was still there, bound with fabric that acted like a sheath of sorts. Not at all anything fancy or big, but enough to defend himself should the moment arise. Jaskier carefully removed the dagger and began to cut at the rope that wrapped around his waist, securing him to the tree.

His heart raced at the prospect of the bandits seeing him, his hands shaking wildly as he sawed at the rope.

Glancing up towards the campfire, he froze. The leader, who had been watching him carefully, stood and walked towards him. The rest of the men fell silent and Jaskier's heart tripled in speed.  
He desperately continued hacking at the rope, as the leader all but ambled up to him.  
Just as the rope snapped and fell away, the leader grabbed Jaskier by the throat and lifted him off the ground.  
"Why would you run, bard?" he snarled, putrid breath hitting Jaskier's face. "Will you not wait for your Witcher?"

Jaskier choked out a broken laugh.  
Then he swung his arm up, slicing the leader's arm with the dagger and releasing the tight grip on his throat. He fell to the ground as the leader yelled in pain - causing the other bandits to rush forward with their weapons.  
"Shit," Jaskier said, dropping to the floor as an arrow sailed over his head, embedding itself in the tree he was recently tied to.

All chaos broke loose as Jaskier attempted to run. It was a stupid idea in the first place, but Jaskier couldn't bear the thought of Geralt finding out he died without fighting back.  
He gasped as an arrow struck his back. His legs gave out, sending him tumbling down onto the cold forest floor. He lay there trying desperately to draw air into his lungs before he was grabbed roughly and dragged over onto his back, crushing the arrow forward through his shoulder. He screamed, a raw sound that tore through his throat and out of his mouth. Jaskier could feel the hot blood soaking through his shirt, covering the already dried stain from earlier that day. He could hear the laughter of the men through the ringing in his ears, and a rage filled him that he had never known before. He launched himself up, dagger clutched in a shaky hand and sliced at anything and everything around him. Sight darkening from pain and blood loss, he heard more than saw the bandits backing off one by one.

Something that almost felt like hope filled his chest until and pain like nothing else flared up in his side.

Jaskier blinked slowly, unable to do much else. His legs gave out from beneath him and he fell heavily to his knees.  
The leader stood tall in front of him, knife gleaming red.  
"Poor little bard..." he crooned, leaning down so he was face to face with Jaskier. "He fought so hard and yet he still will die."  
Jaskier shuddered, blood pouring from the wound in his side, flowing with every beat of his heart.  
"Well, show's over boys!" the leader stood, clapping his hands together in glee. "I got word of something much better than _this_ ,"  
He gestured to Jaskier, and laughed when another bandit stepped forward to punch Jaskier's side causing the bard to fall back into the snow with a weak shout.  
"Time to go," the leader announced to the men. "We'll let the bard die a slow death,"

Jaskier lay in the snow as the men gradually drifted away and stared up at the sky through a small gap in the trees. The stars, though fading with the rising light, twinkled back at him. The red surrounding him warmed him from the biting cold of dawn. The white that lay on the branches above him reminded him of Geralt, his hair, his face, his -  
Jaskier coughed and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Funny, he didn't feel cold at all, or much of anything really...  
He realised he was crying then, fear making itself known. He wished he could see Geralt one last time, he wished he could say sorry, he wished he could be more useful, have Geralt smile at him, to -  
Hands were on him then, and he cried out.  
The bandits were back it had to be -  
White.  
Lots of it.  
A large hand, was placed onto his forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. He sighed, the comfort of the gesture lifting the pain and confusion briefly.  
"Jaskier!"  


The hand on his forehead moved down to his good shoulder, shaking it with not much force but enough to pull at his stab wound.  
He cried out, curling in on himself arms wrapping protectively around his waist.  
"Jaskier! Jaskier, stay awake!"  
The hand on his shoulder was shaking a little, sending small tremors through Jaskier's shoulder. Jaskier choked on more blood.  
"Please," the person said, voice thick with emotion.  
Jaskier felt an overwhelming urge to comfort them until the pain took him again and in a sudden burst of clarity, he knew he was dying. Still unable to see properly, the darkness crawling ever closer, he desperately reached out his hand, searching for the comforting presence beside him.  
The hand on his shoulder moved to catch his hand, clasping it tightly but not enough to hurt.  
Jaskier coughed the blood away once more, desperate to say one last thing.  
"Tell Geralt I'm sorry" he gasped, blood dripped from his lips.  
The hand clutching his tightened.  
"I know, Jaskier. It's okay," the voice murmured. "Jaskier? Jaskier!"  
But Jaskier could not stay awake any longer, like the stars vanishing with the morning light Jaskier blinked out of the world.

/ / /

When Jaskier woke he was warm. Too warm, in fact, but he was alive.  
He was about to attempt to sit up when he realised that someone was holding on tightly to his hand. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and turned to the side. Geralt was sat, meditating in a chair beside the bed, one hand firmly clasped around Jaskier's. Jaskier blinked in surprise.  
Was this a dream? Did he die after all?  
Jaskier flinched, accidentally tugging his hand out of Geralt's grip, causing the other man to jolt.  
"Jaskier! You're awake." He exclaimed, voice even deeper than normal.  
Jaskier just stared, unsure of what to do.  
"It's been three days," Geralt said, a crease between his eyebrows marred his face. “It was too close,”  
Jaskier lay still, eyes shut, unable to say a word. The anger on Geralt’s face from that day clear in his mind.  
"Jaskier, understand me when I say I didn't mean a word of what I said on the mountain. You have nothing to be sorry for,"  
Jaskier cracked an eye open.  


"Y-you found me?"  
"Jaskier, I searched all day for you. The men who took you said you were dead."  
Panic took hold of Jaskier at the thought of the bandits. “Where-?”  
"Dead." Geralt said. "I killed them all,"  
Jaskier let out a shaky breath of relief.  
"Jaskier, listen to me very carefully. What I said was a mistake and I will never let that happen again. You are important to me and I’m sorry I never told you that."  
Hearing these sincere words brought tears springing to Jaskier’s eyes.  
He quickly let out a tearful laugh to cover it.  
"Do … do I recall you holding my hand, Witcher of Rivia?"  
Geralt spluttered in a way so very unlike him.  
"And perhaps I remember you stroking my hair back in the woods,"  
"You were delirious, I was checking how high your fever was!"  
"Hm, you better still have my lute because I have a new ballad to compose!"  
Expecting a comeback Jaskier was surprised to see a soft smile appear on Geralt’s face.  


A smile all for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
